Memories Dripping in Black and White
by Dancing Through Daisies
Summary: "I'm scared to death that I'll never be afraid," "I'll make that happen." She did not know how true that sentence would be. Beck&Jade Oneshot


**First story! Hope you all enjoy :)**

Memories Dripping in Black and White

* * *

"Did you ever do something crazy?"

"Yep. I held my tongue. It was awful."

* * *

She never left the waiting room—not once. The nurses gave her pathetic looks.

"_There is no way he'll ever make it."_

"_With those head injuries? It's a miracle that he is still alive."_

She made a mental note to ruin their careers the first chance she got.

However that would require her to move from the waiting room chair.

(That was not going to happen.)

The nurses call her father to take her home. A day and a half she had been sitting there.

(Only a day and a half? Felt like forever).

* * *

"Did you ever smile a real smile at me?"

"Eh, once if that makes you happy."

* * *

He showed up at her house one summer afternoon to find her still in her pajama bottoms and her hair not done.

"Let's get out of here." He told her. She turned away to go back inside so she could change into something presentable, but he grabbed her wrist before she could escape. He fought her resistance and led her to his car, buckled her in the front seat, and drove away from her house.

It was then that she noticed he wore pajama bottoms too. She gave a frustrated huff and turned to look out the window.

(Her smile appeared).

* * *

"Did you ever laugh so hard that your stomach hurt?"

"Well duh, everyone has."

* * *

He sat on the floor of his RV, staring at magazines, CDs, movies, concert tickets, old photographs, high school yearbooks, and other useless pieces of junk. He just stared at them, as if these items were brand new to him.

(Although they kind of were).

She sat across from him. "Pick one. I'll tell you a story."

He grabbed a photo of the two of them dressed as a hotdog and a hamburger. He thought they looked weird and was intrigued.

"Oh that," she said, remembering that awful day, "we dressed up as food to dance around and sing for little children at a four-year-old's birthday party for money. It was horrible, but the money was nice. I spent my share on new hair dye, eyebrow piercings, and CDs. You spent yours on hair gel and a new guitar and…and…"

For some reason she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed and laughed until she was lying completely on the ground, clenching her stomach with both arms. She did not really know why she was laughing, and neither did he.

(Later on she knew why: it was because time was simple then.)

* * *

"Did you ever keep a secret of mine?"

"Lots. However, one more important than the rest."

* * *

His car ran out of gas on the outskirts of town. She yelled at him because if he wanted to surprise her and take her out then he should have at least checked the gas tank. She could be at home right now, finishing up the script for the newest play she had been writing. But nope, she was stuck with her boyfriend and a car without any gas, nowhere near a gas station or anything for that matter.

"You're a loser," she told him, sitting on the hood of his car.

"You've told me that quite a few times before," he told her, sitting down next to her. The tow truck wouldn't be here for a good thirty minutes. He wasn't frustrated like she was; he just wanted to be with her, no matter what they did.

"Well it's no secret," she said with a scoff. She lied down against the cool rim of the car hood. He did the same.

"Can I tell you something?" He asked her, not daring to look at her. "It's a secret."

"Oh gosh, another one?" She snapped, turning her head towards him. "How many can you possibly have?"

"I don't know. How many do you have?"

"…touché." She replied after a good moment of thought. "This better be a good one, unlike the last hundred thousand."

He waited a while, staring up at the streetlamp that had not turned on. Day was fading quicker and quicker into nightfall. It was bound to turn on soon. Now he felt really nervous to say anything, it was one of his more personal secrets, but he trusted her.

She was growing very impatient and as she was about to open her mouth and force him to tell her, he quietly muttered:

"I'm scared to death that I'll never be afraid."

"That makes no sense." She said, turning her head back over to look at him. He did the same. Blue eyes against brown eyes and the moment was cut short due to the streetlamp flickering on. It startled her, as she was not expecting it to turn on, but he showed no fear, no reaction, no jump, nothing. She took a deep breath and she decided that she got it. Fear meant feeling, and feeling meant taking action, and taking action meant he cared about something or the fear would never have appeared in the first place.

"I'll make it happen."

(It was a promise she never would come true. It just sort of happened).

* * *

"Did you ever tell me you were sorry, for anything?"

"You know it's me you're talking to, right? I apologize when I actually mean it…if that."

* * *

She came to his door towards the end of summer, in pajama bottoms and her hair not done. He opened the door and he was dressed the same. She walked in without being asked, and athough he cannot remember why, he felt as if this was normal for them.

He did not question it.

"Ready for another story?" she asked. It was the least she could do.

"Yeah," he said, sitting back down on the floor. She sat across from him. He had all his miscellaneous items shoved in a box that lay in front of him. He put a hand in and grabbed the first thing his fingers touched.

He handed her his car keys.

She would not take them. She looked at his face, the face that was not the same face like it should have been.

(Her fault, her fault, her fault).

"I'm sorry that I scared you."

* * *

"Did you ever hear me say that I loved you?"

"On more than once occasion, actually."

* * *

The tow truck appeared fifteen minutes late, which they both did not mind. Once her anger subsided and he didn't feel awkward anymore about telling her his secret, they chatted like they normally did. He said something, she put him down, he would make what he thought was a witty retort which she would rebuttal with an even wittier one.

It's just how they functioned, that's all. They were not mad at each other or it was not that they hated one another, the complete opposite actually. This would go on and on until she demanded that he tell her that he loved her and he would oblige. Other times he would simply end the conversation with an, "I love you."

(Either way he liked saying it; either way she liked hearing it).

He got off the car hood to go speak with the tow truck driver about what happened and what they needed. She got off too, but did not follow him. Instead, she went closer to the road. She did not bother with the car talk as that was more his thing, so she found a way to entertain herself. She was staring at the LA skyline: and endless sea of light shined brighter than anything she ever could imagine. Red, white, green, blue, pink dots glittered beautifully at her from the buildings, streetlights, and other lights she could not put a name too. It was as if the world was one big jewelry box, and everyone in it was brighter than any real jewel.

It seemed like today was a waste of time at the beginning, however it evolved into a day she hoped she'd never forget.

The sight was pretty she thought, but out of all the lights there was one light that seemed to get bright and brighter, as if it was coming closer and—

"_JADE!"_

She was shoved to the ground.

The sound of screeching tires roared, a thud was heard, and blood was spilt.

"_BECK!"_

The world went black.

* * *

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?"

"…No."

* * *

He was lying in the hospital bed, listening to her tell him stories of the things that he experienced but could not quite seem to remember. He just got done with another surgery to try and repair nerves and examine the hippocampus part of his brain and other medical mumbo jumbo neither of them understood. So far there was no sign of his memory coming back, but that was okay: he has her to retell him the story of his life. It was better to be alive and unable to remember than dead and fully able to do so. He was tired but he would stay awake as long as she kept talking; he just wanted to be with her.

"So any other questions?" she asked him, taking a deep breath. She had been talking for hours on end, retelling all kinds of adventures they had experienced together.

(It was nice to remember, she thought).

"I guess not," he answered honestly.

"Remember any of it?"

"No."

"Okay." She could not help the defeat that had defined itself in her voice. But hey, he proved all the doctors and nurses wrong: he is alive. Still though, it would be nice to have him remember just one thing…

"I believe you though," he told her. She looked confused. "Well, you could have just made up anything you wanted and I would not have known. But you didn't."

"How do you know I didn't?" she questioned, her tone light.

"I just know you, that's all." He said with a shrug. "You would make it seem like it would be something you'd do to anyone else. However you did not do it this time because it's me."

"…You know me?" She asked, her voice just a tad shaky yet still strong. Did he, the boy that could not remember his own name until she told him, just say that he knew her? "That makes no sense."

"There are some things I could never forget."

* * *

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